Checkmate
by Ms-Pseudo-Writer
Summary: Ciel, a horror writer, finds himself trapped in the twisted world of one of his books. To escape he must first go through the same torture as his main character, Sebastian once went through. Can two damned souls mend the other's equally broken heart?;AU
1. Chapter 1

_Overall Warning (Entire Story) : AU, Rape, Dark Themes, Violence, BL, slight Bondage, Mature Themes, maybe some horror later on, probably some OOC-ness and my refusal to use proper dialogue grammar. (Stupid commas.) _

_What else do you expect from me? A happy-go-lucky where everyone lives happily ever after? Not in this lifetime, kid. The Angst Plot Bunnies like to rape my brain...I can't say that I mind though :3 _

_So, with those warnings out of the way, you know what you are getting yourself into; don't blame me if this isn't your cup of Earl Grey. _

_Checkmate_

_Chapter One: Exposition_

* * *

><p><em>Chains clacked together as the room began increasingly filled with the strong scent of blood. Two figures were the only people occupying the dark, damp basement. The walls were covered with a variety of sharp, painful, dangerous instruments. As usual, there was a large table set up with some tools that had been taken down for the night's activities.<em>

_Two chains were nailed with steal bolts to the stone wall and there were handcuffs the end of the chains. Attached to the handcuffs was Sebastian. He head was bowed and his raven hair hide his bloodied face. There were dark purple bruises on his wrists and scars too. Sebastian suddenly threw his head back against the cold wall to reveal a face contorted with pain. His eyelids shot open to expose unnatural red eyes that were richer than any ruby. _

_The other inhabitant of the room slides out the sharp knife from Sebastian's torso. He gracefully moved to the table to clean off the knife. When he returned to his captive, he held in his hand another knife; however, this one was very blunt and dull. If Sebastian had less pride he would have pleaded and begged with his captor to use something sharper. But no, Sebastian of course had more pride than a rich, pompous prince. He knew that the knife would hurt more, but instead of crying and begging and trying to reason with the mad man, Sebastian simply hissed and gave a hoarse scream as the knife slowly punctured his lower torso. _

_The captor raised his mouth to Sebastian's ear. "You'll never get away, and you know that."_

_Sebastian only smirked and retorted, "Watch me."_

_With those words Sebastian then...—_

* * *

><p>Head, meet desk. Desk, meet brain damage.<p>

Chapter 30, Page 665. It had been page 665 for the last hour. It was a road block and a head ache, and even worse, it was page six hundred and sixty five. He was utterly lost on what to do and how to write it.

Ciel Phantomhive sat staring at his laptop with his head now in his hands feeling as though his brain was about to explode. For the first time in his writing career, Ciel had writer's block, and it was the most horrible, mind numbing feeling. Ever.

It was unusual for the young author to have the dreaded writer's block; all his life Ciel had always been able to just sit down and write what ever he please. Of course, not all the ideas he deemed worthy enough to publish. Once and a while he came across a brilliant plot and Ciel was had always just started to write. Not this time though.

Ciel was almost finish writing the second instalment in his best selling series when he came across a block; and what a block it was! In short, the whole next book depended on Ciel's next choice—or rather the character's, Sebastian. _Stupid Sebastian,_ Ciel thought.

He leaned back into his chair and peaked over at the corner of his screen to see that it was almost four in the afternoon; he had been working since eleven in the morning and produced about a page of writing. Perfect, his editors will practically jump out their seats with such _enjoyment_. The teal-haired adult rolled his eyes and could easily picture the two men—his sleazy publisher and fat, all business editor— throwing multiply items at the author and his "procrastination."

"What to do..." Ciel impatiently tapped his finger against the home row of the key board. He decided to re-read through the past chapter as to try and trigger a idea.

Now, Ciel Phantomhive was a famed horror and suspense author who had written countless books. His latest character, Sebastian was the main focus of his most popular book series.

Sebastian was a prideful character, much like Ciel. Sebastian in a way was what Ciel secretly wanted himself to be like; tall, strikingly handsome, a person who bowed to no one. Sebastian was also more than that. He was seductive and dark, but could turn to sweet at the drop of a hat. In truth, Sebastian was one of Ciel's most complex characters, having traits and motives that sometimes even his creator didn't understand. His overall personality could only be described as devilish.

Ciel himself was a little far off from Sebastian's personality; The young Phantomhive was smart but not athletic and didn't enjoy the roaring fan girls. He hated talking to strangers— or anyone in fact. He liked to keep to himself and write. That was his life.

A ring of his phone brought Ciel out of his reading. He lazily picked it up and put the phone on speaker. "Phantomhive."

"_Ciel? You need to stop writing and get some fresh air!" _

"Hello Aunt An."

Aunt An scoffed, "_Come on dear, you need to get out of that stuffy apartment of yours!"_

Ciel spun slowly in his chair, "It's not stuffy, it's just too small for your tastes."

"_Never the less, don't make me come and get you."_

"No. I need to stay here," Ciel monotonously said while staring at the wall.

"_What is your reason this time?"_

"665."

"_Pardon?"_

Ciel sighed, "Page 665, that's what I'm on."

Angelina Durless—or simply Aunt An as she preferred— was a very outgoing and talkative person, to put

it short. She was Ciel's mother's sister and the only living family the young adult had. (His parents had tragically died in an attempt to compromise the fate of the family company—said company now in the hands of Aunt An .)

"_I don't care if you are on the brink of a genius plot or any other excuses you can come up with, Ciel. You need to get away from the damned computer! And you know what?—" _Aunt An continued to lecture her nephew for another few minutes before the young adult finally had enough.

"Alright! I'll go on a vacation or something, happy?" Ciel rubbed his temples in defeat.

Aunt An sounded slightly disappointed, _"I'm only happy if you are, my dear." _Ciel felt a small pang of guilt wash over him at the tone of his aunts voice; she really did care about him...he could be so ignorant sometimes.

"I'll be happy when this damn book is finished and in stores," Ciel grumbled. "Stupid Sebastian, why'd you have to be captured again in the first place?"

"_Ciel, I may only be you little old Aunt who knows nothing about how that brain of yours works, but I am a doctor, and my advice to you is that you need to stop thinking so much about this book and have, like you said, a vacation."_

Ciel banged his head against the table and sighed, "You need to control your speech. Everything that you say is a run on sentence."

"_Excuse me? Really Ciel, you need to get your head out of the _technical_ world of writing."_

"Right, sorry. I suppose it's just a habit." (If Ciel was so grammically correct, why did he need a annoying editor again? Ciel asked himself this too many times.)

The two conversed for a few minutes longer before Ciel (unwillingly) agreed to stay at his Aunt's newly renovated cabin located in the North-West area of Canada. The place was secluded and would deny Ciel the use of the internet and his cell; Aunt An said it would be the ideal place for a vacation. Within hours, Ciel was grudgingly packing his bags and heading to catch a late flight.

* * *

><p>"<em>Please fasten your seatbelts; Air Canada will be taking off in just a few minutes."<em>

The teal-haired adult sat awkwardly by himself near the back of the small plane. Despite the first-class seating that was available for the writer, Ciel preferred to sit alone where he could focus without the attendants constantly asking him if he wanted anything, at least in the back they seemed to forget about him. The seats were modestly comfy enough that with his paper and pencil in hand, Ciel felt the need to go against Aunt An's threats and begin to write. However, whenever he would put is pencil on the paper to write, his entire mind would go blank.

The young adult stared out the window for the longest time, wondering why he was having so much trouble with this final arc in his novel. After a while, Ciel heard the loudspeaker suggesting that now would be a good time to sleep. Ciel did feel tired, but he was used to staying up so late to finish writing that he had soon became accustomed to pulling all-nighters. But even if he wanted to sleep he couldn't—or rather wouldn't.

The writer detested sleeping on planes; it just made him feel to vulnerable. What would happen if someone abducted him? Or stole his stuff? Or whatever obscene scenario he could imagine that could possible happen while he would be asleep; And thus, no napping for Ciel.

He hadn't noticed just how eerily quiet the plane had become until a young attendant tapped him on the shoulder. She had a pretty face, but Ciel couldn't help but feel like there was something off about her.

"Do you need anything, dear?" She smiled sweetly, but almost _too_ sweetly. It was if she was trying to hide something. Ciel was at loss for words much to his confusement. He couldn't help but stare at eyes, and it was then that he realised what was different about her.

Her eyes didn't hold the same sweetness as her smile did, they looked dark and hazy, like she was mentally scrutinizing the younger. She brought her manicured nails up to stroke his tense arm, but her intentions seemed far from comforting.

"You look frightened...Is something wrong, dearie?"

(_Is something wrong, Ciel? You look scared..." It smiled and traced a single finger down the young teen's bare torso. Ciel shivered and fidgeted nervously._

"_No...stop..."_

_It looked confused, "Stop?" But 'it' wasn't 'it' anymore...it was the flight attendant, complete with red eyes and lips. "But we haven't even got to the good part...") _

Ciel shut his eyes tightly to escape the memory. When he heard a soft voice calling out "dear" again, he flashed them open. He expected to find the deceiving girl perched above him, with a wicked look in her dark eyes. What he saw instead was a pretty young girl, with a worried look on her face and a concerned frown on her pink lips.

"Dear, are you okay?" She asked. "You looked scared."

"I...What is it that you want?" Ciel's voice wavered at first, but he quickly evened it and replied a little too sharply.

The girl looked taken aback by the other's tone, but shook it off and forced herself to put on another smile, "You should go to bed, it's probably past your bedtime, right?"

The young teal-haired boy was about the retort angrily saying that he was not a child, but stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted something on the pretty girls shoulder.

It was dark, thin and boney with long nails painted black. The hand was placed lazily on the shoulder, but no owner's arm could not be seen. He knew who the hand belonged to though: _'It.' _The same hand that had defiled his innocence so many years girl didn't seem to notice, but the writer did. He saw the way It crept, the nails digging into thin fabric but not to break it.

The girl looked to where Ciel had his eyes widened at, her shoulder, and looked back at him with a bewildered look. She was obviously thinking that this boy was mentally disturbed or delusional.

Without another word, she turned around and walked away. Ciel didn't move a single muscle, still too confused. His mind buzzed with questions, when he finally pushed it off as his mind playing tricks on him. Maybe a good night sleep would do him well...At least before he completely was devoured by the madness of his delusional mind.

* * *

><p><em>Chains clack together, the room's scent is filled with blood—old and new—and the overpowering smell of the unholiest of acts still lingers. A lone figure hangs from chains attached to the stone wall that had been previously painted with life fluid. The room is not well lit and the dangling figure has to adjust his eyes to see.<em>

_But it was not Sebastian who is hanging from the wall in this familiar scene, but an adult small enough to pass as a teen who struggles against his bindings._

_Ciel looks around the basement, automatically recognizing it as the same room that Sebastian was tortured in—or at least what he pictured it to be._

_A creaking noise echoes from atop of the stairs as a tall man slowly walks down the steps and makes his way towards Ciel._

"_Who...Who are you?" Ciel yells, but finds his voice weaker than he would have preferred. "Let me down!"_

_The man stays silent much to Ciel's dismay, and moves over to a table covered with silk cloth._

"_Hey! Listen to me!" Ciel began to feel his anxiety rising quicker from each passing second. The teal haired boy feels it spike dramatically and his stomach lurch when he sees exactly what is on the silk covered table; a large assortment of knifes ranging in length and sharpness. _

_The other man simply ignores Ciel and gingerly picks up two knifes: one with a sharp edge and the other with a curved tip. He walks to stand in front of the now shaking boy and holds up the two knifes. Ciel notices a sadistically playful look in his eyes and an equally dark smile. It seems to Ciel like his captor wants him to choice a knife._

_But he can't find his voice._

_The other takes shrugs and sets down the sharper knife. Ciel squirms and gives a frightened yelp as his captor twirls the knife by the handle and walks back to the dangling boy. _

_Ciel turns his head so that the cold stone cools his now heated body. He won't let himself cry, but this was too real...it couldn't be happening...not again!_

_Out of the corner of his eye, Ciel sees a pair of almost glowing scarlet eyes watching him from a dark corner. The body belonging to the eyes steps forward, but not to much that he would be seen by the other man in front of Ciel. He gives Ciel a devilish smirk and although there is quite a distance between the two, Ciel hears a sultry whisper in his ear._

"_Prepare yourself, Little Kitten."_

* * *

><p>"Ciel!"<p>

Ciel looked up from his note pad and at the woman with choppy red hair sitting across from him, "Hmm?"

Aunt An scoffed and focused back onto the road, her hands lightly grasping the steering wheel, "This is _supposed_ to be a vacation for you."

"Sorry, I just had a strange dream on the plane," Ciel rested his elbow on the car door, "and I have to write it down so I don't forget. It might me useful later..."

She made a noise of disapproval, but continued to drive without speaking.

Ciel sighed, he knew his Aunt only wanted the best for him, but sometimes she could be too pushy. He was glad now was not one of those overbearing times.

"So, Ciel," Aunt An started after a few moments of awkward silence, "how _is_ your book coming along?" Obviously, even if she wanted her nephew to take a break, she couldn't help but be sucked in the intriguing world of Ciel's imagination.

Ciel shrugged and said something along the lines of a '_meh'_ noise before turning to his aunt. "I don't know what to do. My editors want the story out by at least the end of the year and I'm nowhere done."

"I thought you said you were on one of the last chapters?"

"I am, but the outcome of the climax of the story depends on my next decision for the book, and that's what I'm stuck on. It just seems every time I go to write all my ideas go out the window."

"The climax is the best part, right?"

Ciel nodded, "There's eight basic parts to a story: the exposition, or introduction, the rising action, trigger incident, complication, crisis, climax, or the 'best part' of the story, and finally the denouement, or falling action. The last part is what will also lead into the next book—which I don't _really_ want to write. Stupid money hungry editors."

Aunt An laughed at this, "Isn't everyone nowadays?"

"Basically. I should have limited this series to one book like I had wanted to."

"I heard that they are making a movie out of it, is this true?" Aunt An asked. She didn't know if her gossip blog had gotten the right 'dirt' on the subject so she thought it best to ask a direct source. "And who would you want to play the characters?"

Ciel actually laughed bitterly at this. "They want to. I don't know about it...sometimes movies ruin the books. Just look at Twilight—then again, the book wasn't so well written in the first place."

"But still, it won _how_ many MTV awards?" Aunt An teased.

"How should I know? The one time I watched that channel two guys were doing something called the '_standing sixty-nine.' _Regardless, those stupid sparkly vampires are overrated._" _Ciel couldn't help but think that the conversation was taking a rather ridiculous turn.

"So, I'm guessing your not a fan of Robert Paterson. My site says he is an option for Sebastian~!"

Ciel nearly choked. "Over my dead body!" Aunt An continued to laugh as she pulled into a gas station.

Once the window rolled down and the station employee came around, Ciel instantly stopped all social behaviour. He hated talking around people he didn't know...Just the thought of having some stranger being able to listen in on his conversations to get a picture of what he was talking about unnerved the young writer. The fact that Ciel didn't like—He was too prideful to say that he was afraid – talking to new people didn't help either, and it quickly earned him the media title of '_the decade's most unsocial writer."_

"I'm going in to pay, do you want anything to drink, dear?" Aunt An asked while getting in her car and smiling at the gas attendant.

Ciel shook his head and gave a quick, nervous glance to the man pumping gas. The large man caught Ciel's eye and cocked his head.

"Hey, aint you that big shot writer that er'body is always talkin' bout?" The gas attendant asked. "Y'know that horror writer?"

Ciel froze up and stuttered; both embarrassed that he got caught staring and for having to talk to the stranger. "Y-yes..."

"Well damn, Whatchu doin up 'ere, eh?"

"I-I..uhm, I'm taking a break from w-writing."

"Oh, and how's yer boss takin' that? Don't he run you to the ground with work an' all, like all them big shots?" The man laughed, his oversized belly jiggling as he does. He's finished with Aunt An's gas and comes around to talk to Ciel, much to the younger's dismay.

"Err...they don't really k-know." Ciel wished his aunt would hurry up in the store, because the less conversation with the stranger the better. The attendant continued to laugh, completely ignoring Ciel's obvious uncomfortable state.

Finally, Aunt An returned with a bag filled with connivance store food. The attendant smiled at her and waved his good-byes. (As the red haired woman pulled away he cursed when he forgot to get the authors signature.)

In the car, Aunt An gave Ciel a concerned glance, "Ciel dear, are you alright?"

Ciel nodded, but continued to clutch the underside of his seat as they drove towards the cabin.

* * *

><p>"So, how do you like it?"<p>

"..."

"I know it's a bit...girly...but it does make a contrast to your home."

Ciel frowned and set his suitcase down on the floor. "It will do."

Aunt An smiled and fixed her hat before turning to leave. "I'll be back in a couple hours to check up on you before I go home. There phone line isn't hooked up yet, but someone should be coming over tomorrow to fix it."

"No phone? What if I need help?" Ciel asked while taking in the mass amount of flowers and pink decorated items that made up his Aunt's cottage. In truth, it wasn't _that_ bad, but the young author nevertheless only wanted to be back home.

"There is a pay phone up thee road if you should need anything. Besides, it's only one night, you'll survive."

With that and a quick hug, Aunt An left the house, leaving Ciel alone to groan in defeat; This wasn't exactly his ideal vacation spot.

Ciel gave the front room of the cabin a brief overlook before moving to the bedroom down the hall. He absentmindedly wondered if the cabin had an attic or basement, but quickly pushed the idea out of his head; it was getting dark, and the young author was not willing to call his aunt like a child. He wouldn't let his fears get to him, he told himself, he was the boss of himself.

Ciel entered the bedroom and gave another groan; the bedroom was even worse that the rest of the damn cabin. The decorator obviously had a dying passion for flowers, all things pink and little wood birds that plagued the entire home.

It was the little things that annoyed Ciel. Like stupid flowers and tacky wood carvings of damn birds.

Regardless, Ciel threw his clothing messily into the dresser draws, but stopped before leaving. It wasn't as if the writer had anything better to do, so he folded his clothes nicely and arranged the draws accordingly. Once done the meaniless task, Ciel half considered redoing just for the hell of it. Instead, he went to fetch his other suitcases to see if there was anything he packed that could redecorate the room.

On his way down the hallway, Ciel finds that he had spent more time that he had originally thought. He had to feel his way down the dark hallway, silently cursing himself for not turning on any lights. Ciel didn't like it one bit, because the dark walls seemed to be closing in around him. He felt his heart miss a beat when his left hand didn't feel wall anymore.

_Another hallway?_ He though. He hadn't remembered a second hallway coming up to his room, and know he didn't know exactly which one to take. Ciel darted his eyes when he heard a creak from the left hallway and he felt his body shake. He had to balance himself against the wall when he felt the unnerving darkness trying to consume him. His eyes refused to see anything other than black and he felt a cold surface on his back he turned his head and felt the object he was leaning against. The surface was smooth and the frame was elaborately designed, and helped him become distracted from whatever noise he had heard.

A flash of light had Ciel staring into his reflection of the mirror he had been previously feeling. The sudden light made Ciel jump and clutch the edge of the mirror to tightly, which caused him to cut his palm. A small amount of blood trickled from the light wound as Ciel hissed from pain. But, another creak broke Ciel away from the pain and Ciel nervously forced himself to investigate. The sound became louder as Ciel walked on floorboards that groaned in protest every step he took.

Finally, Ciel came to a door, his hands shook as he brought them up to the handle. Summing up all his courage, Ciel took a deep breath before flinging the door open and backed away. Thankfully, nothing jumped at him and Ciel stepped into the room.

It was a bedroom much like his, but instead had a deep red color on the walls and bedding. Ciel felt something tickling his ankle, and quickly jumped back. Much to the young writers bemusement, hundreds of black feathers adorned the floor and some even floated into the air as he walked.

A final creak was head, and Ciel snapped his head over to the bed, where the sound was being omitted. He cursed again for not bring something sharp—just in case he needed something to stab with.

"And hello to you, little one." A husky voice came from the bed. "Won't you come over here?"

Ciel nearly screamed and bolted for the door, but two strong hands wrapped around his waist—only making him struggle more.

"Hush, small one, I wouldn't dream of hurting you..." the man said, "not yet at least..."

"Wh-who are you?" Ciel demanded, both scared for his life, and incredibly angry at the intruder. "How did you get in..How long have you been here?" Ciel's voice became hysterical as more and more questions poured from his mouth; all the while trying desperately to escape the man's grasp.

The man chuckled darkly. "So many questions, so little time. I can't be long, but I've been dying to play with _you_." He brought his lips to Ciel's ear and licked the shell, "Perhaps we can play a game...one that you've put me through, hmm?"

Ciel paled even further before finally breaking free of his grasp. "What are you talking about? I've never met you in my life!"

The taller one gave what sounded to be a disappointed huff. "Oh, how unfortunate, even disappointing... you don't remember me..." He turned Ciel around and faster than younger could protest, he pressed them together despite the noticeable height difference. "Maybe this will provoke you memory..."

He roughly grabbed a fist full of Ciel's hair and brought their mouths together in a hard kiss. Ciel clamped his eyes shut and pushed against the other's chest.

When they broke apart Ciel was nearly in tears (he would never admit to it though) and touched his own lips. "...you...what..." He stuttered for a few moments before giving the intruder a harsh glare filled to the brim with hatred and disgust. Before he could yell and possibly throw something at the man, Ciel noticed the striking colour of the other's eyes.

Blood red eyes and a devilish smirk were features on the other's pale skin with raven hair that framed his face.

_It...couldn't be..._Ciel thought.

The smaller backed away from the now familiar man as he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping this was all just a dream.

When he reopened his eyes, the man was gone. Ciel furrowed his eyebrows when he found that he was in _his own_ bedroom, instead of the black coloured one.

"What in the name of..." Ciel frowned and brought a hand up to rub his eyes, but stopped when he felt something rub off his hand and onto his face. He brought his hand up to see that a small amount of partially dried blood was on his hand.

_So it wasn't a dream...? _Ciel had never been so confused. _Maybe I'm turning into a schizoid..._

Frown still in place, Ciel wearily moved to open his door to the hallway, this time remembering to turn on a light. He went down the hallway, but a sickening feeling surged in his stomach when the hallway lead straight to the living area and kitchen. There had not been a second hallway on his way there...

Ciel hummed and bit his lip. Nothing was making sense today.

Feeling like he was going to pass out, Ciel went to the fridge and got a water bottle; all the way having the intense feeling of dread that some one was watching him.

A loud trill brought the writer out of his thoughts, which was strange since Aunt An said that the phone didn't work. He moved to pick it up and brought the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?"

The voice makes Ciel shiver at first and another feeling of dread washes over him. "_I'm on my way._"

Before Ciel has the chance to respond, the sound of dial tone blasted in Ciel's ear. "What the...?"

Ciel nervously laughed; thinking that it was probably only a joke...like one of those prank shows on T.V.. To put his mind at rest, Ciel goes to sit on the couch with his notebook and pencil.

* * *

><p><em>Sebastian sits on the cold floor of the basement, in his head he half-heartily wishes that he was chained to the wall. Then he could at least struggle and have something to preoccupy himself with. He really only wanted to sleep, but he knew that his captor would definitely then chain him to a wall— and probably not feed him. Sebastian may think that he is invincible at times, but everyone needs food to stay alive. <em>

_Sebastian almost thought that it would be easier just to die than have to injure another day in this hell. But he can't, to have the twisted smile of his abductor as his last dying image would be worse than anything. Sebastian would rather see the angry scowl etched into the other man's face every time Sebastian wouldn't react to pain—though more increasingly, the other's torture has become more intense and the raven haired man finds himself shaking with fear more often than he would please._

_A phone that his captor left on the table began to ring, and Sebastian moved over to answer it._

"_Not long now." His captor said. _

_Sebastian dropped the phone when he heard a gun being loaded on the other line. Could tonight be the night it all ended?_

_The echo of a door being closed made Sebastian look up and—_

* * *

><p>Ciel groaned when the phone rung again. He angrily picked up the phone, about to blast the person who dared to interrupt his creativity. But, what the voice on the other end said made Ciel's blood run cold.<p>

"_Not long now..." _

No...it was impossible...it must be his rapid imagination that was playing games with him...right?

Ciel started to then think that this whole trip had been bizarre and unexplainable; The flight attendant that wanted to possibly rape him, the whole intruder incident, and now the phone? Had he just been hallucinating the entire time? Would he wake up to find that this was just some strange dream? Where had that intruder go anyway...and how did he get in? Questions swarmed Ciel's mind far quicker than he had time to find answers for them all. Could it be his Aunt's work? Maybe she was trying to help him with his plot...or on the other end of the spectrum, perhaps Aunt An wanted to scare him so that he would seriously take a break.

No. His aunt wouldn't do that. Not to him, not after what happened to him; she knew, and Aunt An would never do anything like this to scare him...

Would she?

Ciel jumped when the phone rung a third time. Ciel could have sworn Aunt An said that the phone wasn't connected. The writer got up when he decided he would see where the phone cord was plugged in. Once he was in the kitchen where the phone laid—still ringing—Ciel got on his hands and knees and followed the cord. In went from down the counter to across the floor to the opposite end of the kitchen. The plug was on the wall, but not plugged in.

Yet the phone was stilling ringing. Ciel debated answering the possessed phone and instead brought his knees up to his chest and stared at the phone (which had thankfully stopped ringing).

The whole house was silent. The only sounds were the quiet hum of the fridge and the constant _tick-tock_ of the old style clock.

Ciel gave a nervous squeak when in minutes, the phone started to ring again. He felt a wave of adrenaline and nausea hit it like a tidal wave, and he picked up the phone.

"_I'm here."_ The two words had Ciel shaking.

"What do you want!" Ciel screams into the receiver, but only receives dial tone back.

He can feel himself hyperventilating and has to grab onto the fridge handle to keep himself from passing out. A loud knock on the door almost made Ciel's heart stop beating, but as another knock came from the front, the petrified organ beat furiously against Ciel's ribcage.

When the knocking didn't stop, Ciel nervously grabbed a frying pan from under the counter and slowly made his way to the entrance hallway. The young writer was almost in tears, as he flung the door open, ready to strike down whatever is behind it.

What he found instead was his red-head Aunt Angelina standing with a phone pressed against her ear. She frowned when she say a frying pan and gave Ciel a very confused look.

"Ciel, what on earth are you doing with that thing?" she asked stepping in as Ciel still stood there frozen.

A clatter and slam sound was heard behind Aunt An, and she turned to look at her nephew.

"Ciel, what _is _wrong? You look like you just saw a twenty foot monster."

Ciel internally debated on telling his aunt the truth, and decided he might as well. All the while, Aunt An listened as her frown grew longer. At the end of his explanation, Aunt An hugged Ciel and smiles.

"Well, I think it is splendid that you found a way to create a new scenario." Aunt An said. "Though, I'm not quite sure if it is a healthy way."

Ciel gave her a flash look of confusion. "What...?"

"For your book? That's the purpose of your whole story right, so that you could finish your book?"

She thought he had made the whole thing up. Maybe he was crazy.

"Ciel, you look a little pale, maybe you should get some rest. The phone company will be here in the morning," Aunt An took Ciel's arm and led him to the bedroom, "and maybe I'll come by tomorrow too so that we can go for breakfast."

Aunt An insisted that Ciel go to bed, and he could only oblige. He would definitely see a doctor in the morning as well, because if these strange events continue, Ciel just might declare himself mentally unstable.

The red-head aunt said that she would stay until he fell asleep and see if the T.V. worked. Once she left the room, Ciel instantly fell to sleep.

* * *

><p>Ciel groaned as he reawaken, and went to raise his hands to stretch, but found that he couldn't. He also realised that he was in a standing position with his back pressed against cold stone. His hands were bounded above his head and his feet were also. A cold draft brings to his attention that he is completely naked. Ciel instantly started to panic, first thinking that it was just another nightmare.<p>

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in... an adorable lost kitten." A familiar sultry voice said. "How _delightful_."

Ciel continued to struggle harder against his bounds, fully aware of the surprisingly real pain he felt as the handcuffs dug into his pale skin—after all this was only a dream, how much 'pain' could you feel?

"You!" Ciel glared at the man, remembering him as the same intruder that was in his house earlier.

"Hmm?" He hummed. "I have a name, you know. Do you remember yet?"

"..."

"Well, seeing as you have lost your memory for the moment, I'll introduce myself."

With a sigh and straitening of his black dress jacket. "I, am Sebastian Michaelis."

Ciel stopped struggling long enough to huff at the other. "Hello then, I'm Ciel, your creator. Now let me down!"

Sebastian thought for a minute, cradling his chin in his hand. "Hmm...No, I'd rather not."

"And why not?" Ciel's voice again became hysterical, as he desperately despised being restrained and would much rather wake up than stay and converse with his own character.

The raven ignored Ciel's question and moved to sit on a near by table—one that Ciel hoped didn't have any sharp objects on as per his last dream.

"You see, little kitten," Sebastian began, "I am tired of being the victim in your implied autobiography. Before you even ask, I know exactly what happened to you because in a roundabout way, I am you. Rather, I am something that has come from your mind, thus I know every little detail about you, Ciel Vincent Phantomhive.

"So, since you are putting me through torture, I assume it is your cruel way of getting back at those who did similar to you. That's why you take the liberty of sending copies of your books to the ones in prison—the ones who kidnapped you and—"

"STOP!" Ciel violently thrashed. "Enough! I am done with this dream!"

"Dream?" Sebastian actually laughed at this. "You still think that you are dreaming little kitten?"

Sebastian got down from the table and stood in front of Ciel. "Oh...That is where you are dearly mistaken, little one, for this is no dream!"

"W-what are you talking about?" Ciel said, his voice rising an octave. "Of course this is a dream! What else would it be?"

"...perhaps you could call it a intervention of some sorts. Or perhaps a _game!_" Sebastian smirked, "I, the victim, and you, the master, switch roles in a diverse scenario. Like I said before, I am fed up with your abuse. I may be just a figment of your imagination, but that doesn't mean that I can't suck your mind into itself."

"That...doesn't even make sense." Ciel didn't like where this was going one bit. "This _is_ a dream."

Sebastian sighed again. "Suit yourself. Learn the hard way, see if I care." With that, the raven walked into the darkness, leaving Ciel to fight against the chains again.

After a few minutes, a door creaked open and slammed shut. Ciel raised his head to see another man creeping towards him, twirling a knife in his hand.

_Just a dream_, Ciel told himself, but then, as the fear quickly settled in him, Ciel wasn't quite sure if this is a dream after all.

Without warning, the other man slide the sharp knife into Ciel's lower stomach. Ciel omitted a dry scream as the other twisted the knife slightly, causing it to cut Ciel's insides more.

Ciel continued to chant '_Just a dream, just a scary dream_' in his head, but as the knife slide out, he can't help but realise how real the agonizing pain was.

Before the other man left, he whispered to Ciel, "_You'll make a fun new pet._" Ciel recognized the voice. It was the one on the phone. But...how? They were all just characters in his book...figments of his imagination...how could they be real?

After moments of harsh breathing, Sebastian appeared beside Ciel; he silently wiped the oozing blood from Ciel's wound. When he finished, the raven stroked Ciel's tear stained face gently.

"In a way, this is my sick, sadistic, twisted way of revenge on you," he said softly, "and I'm going to enjoy every second watching you suffer, little kitten.

"You are stuck here with me until you have learned something significant or another. I'll make sure to put you through everything that you once put me through." Sebastian lightly pressed his lips to Ciel's in a mock seal to their one-sided contract. Another kiss was placed on Ciel's right eye, and immediately, the teal-haired boy felt raw excruciating pain stem from that eye.

"This is my mark on you, just as you have marked me," Sebastian lifts his hand to display the burn mark on his left hand. A pentacle. "I will do things word for word, Ciel, so prepare yourself."

* * *

><p>""<em>Emotionless, that was what he was. However, he was weak; A fragile child hiding behind a strong stone fortress. This child was an empire, but one empire can easily be conquered by another. In a way, his fortress had already been breached, his empire destroyed and his battle worn body lied lifeless in mud. How could something that doesn't—or at least shouldn't—exist possibly beat him at his own game? The words he typed, the world he created, all of it turned into a twisted reality; one that he will be stuck in.<em>

_How long will he be caged within black ink and clean white paper? Will he be strong enough to escape; is there even a way out? When he is put through the events of his own book, what happens when the pages run out?""_

* * *

><p>AN *_Throws confetti in your face_* Welcome to my newest story! Here, you deserve some Yummy Yaoi Cake for have finished reading that _thing_ above *Points to story* I know it's may not be the best, but meh.

**Moving on, I apologize for OOC-ness, **this is my first Kuroshitsuji story so I'm still getting my head wrapped around how to write the characters. Although telling me if you like/love/possible loath the story is great and all, constructive criticism is HIGHLY appreciated. n_n

_**I'm on the lookout for a beta,**_** or just someone to help me, for my stories in the Kuro fandom. I need one who will be HARSH, knows how to keep the Kuro characters IC extremely well and one whom is willing to **_**kick my ass**_** if I start slacking. If you know anyone, or are interested in helping me, I'd probably love you forever. :heart:**

Things I realise about this chapter:

-It probs lacks character emotion/;;/ It's probs OOC/;;/It probs doesn't resemble anything that is Kuroshitsuji/;;/My dialogue grammar is not correct. I realise the there is suppose to be commas before quotation marks and blah blah blah. I don't care. So suck it.

-Tiiley-chan


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: TROLOLOL, huzzah and behold: I bring-eth with me a delightful – an exceptionally overdue – chapter of Kuroshitsuji Fanfiction for you to indulge yourselves with. Enjoy (at your own risk XD)_

_Thanks to everyone who fav'd/alerted/REVIEWED! I didn't expect that good of feedback for the first chapter, but YAY n_n. There were quite a few people who pointed out my errors and typos and such, so thank you again :) _

_And a HUGE thankies to JustSayNoToPants for beta-ing this for me. I love you :'D_

_Oh, forgot to put one of these in last time: Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji does not belong to me and *insert awesome and witty disclaimer joke here*_

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><p><em>Chapter Two: Rising Action<em>

* * *

><p><em>"You are stuck here with me until you have learned something significant or another. I'll make sure to put you through everything that you once put me through." Sebastian lightly pressed his lips to Ciel's in a mock seal to their one-sided contract. Another kiss was placed on Ciel's right eye, and immediately, the teal-haired boy felt raw excruciating pain stem from that eye.<em>

_"This is my mark on you, just as you have marked me," Sebastian lifts his hand to display the burn mark on his left hand. A pentacle. "I will do things word for word, Ciel, so prepare yourself."_

* * *

><p>Ciel bolted up from his bed with a scream ready to jump from his throat. Sebastian's voice echoed clearly in his ears; the raven-haired man's words etched into Ciel's brain. At first he didn't believe Sebastian, but when he felt the dull throb from where <em>that man<em> had stabbed him previously, he moved to a desperate sort of denial, not wanting to believe his character. The faded pain only added to his inner turmoil. He wouldn't _dare _show any signs of fear though—unless, of course, if his anxiety caught up with him and decided to oppress his actions—Ciel was too prideful for that.

The young writer rubbed his eyes, wincing as the sun peaked out from his window. He looked around his surrounds, panic-stricken that he didn't recognize where he was. It was a small room, with a bed, dresser and nightstand; a hotel perhaps?

Groaning, Ciel could only think that this was another odd delusion. God dammit, it was to early for this. Getting up, he stumbled over to a table in the corner where he found a crumpled up newspaper. '_The London Gazette.' London? I'm back home? _Ciel thought, a pain in his gut suddenly arising - wasn't he in Canada last time he checked? However, when Ciel saw the date on the paper, he felt the contents of his stomach turn.

_1888. _

_No! This is impossible!_Ciel's mind quickly tried to fathom why an old newspaper would be in his room...and just _where _was he? It certainly couldn't be a coincidence that a paper with the exact same date as the one he used in Sebastian's story would just so happen to show up in his room.

Ciel growled angrily whilst throwing the newspaper rather childishly across the room. ("_Does nothing __make sense in this world anymore?" _he wanted to scream.) After hearing a thud, Ciel turned to see that the newspaper had hit an elegant mirror. The looking glass was perhaps more sophisticated than the rest of the room itself. A silvery frame spiraled around a glossy reflection and Ciel was surprisingly drawn towards the elaborate markings on it's metal skeleton. Ciel went over to trace his fingertips over the indents, feeling the words atop the frame.

'_All immortals sing when they die.' _

Ciel frowned and read over the words. _What use __is carving an oxymoron into__ a mirror? _Ciel thought. _Mirrors don't lie; they only can show what stands before them. _Ciel paused and withdrew his hand for a moment. The mirror was fairly familiar to him, and he solemnly remembered that his parents had owned a similar one with the same engraved words.

The slate haired man lowered his eyes to gaze into his own reflection. Delicate porcelain skin and two cobalt eyes...no, definitely not: one cobalt, the other...

_No. _Ciel's hand instantly flew to touch under his right eye. There, plain as day, imprinted in his eye was a amethyst pentacle.

A knock sounded him out of his thought path, and he covered his right eye before getting up towards the door. Peaking through the peep hole, Ciel felt his heart pound when he saw what stood on the other side. He instantly flung the door open to reveal a woman in a red frock with a matching hat standing impatiently behind it.

"Aunt An!" Ciel cried, making sure to cover his eye. "Thank _god _you're here, I thought I was going completely bonkers."

The woman gave the younger a bewildered look before sighing and stepping past Ciel. "Really now, I don't know how many times I've told you not to smoke things with Lau. That Chinese rat has turned you absolutely rotten, Sebastian."

_Wait...what did she say? _Ciel thought and gaped at the woman who apparently, now thought he was high. "What are you talking about? I'm not Sebastian! (_Nor am I impaired_,)" As he looked over her again, her rouge lips became a thin line and she readjusted her burgundy hat. "Who—who are you?"

The lady gave a annoyed huff and sat on the bed. "Have you gone daft?" She reached into her purse to pull out a cigarette and wave it around as she talked. "Alright, let's start from the beginning, shall we?

"I am Madame Red, and _you_ are Sebastian Michaelis." Madame Red lit up her cigarette and took a small drag. "Unless I am mistaken and you are actually _not _Sebastian and are instead some impostor. In that case, than would you know where I could find the real Sebastian—preferably one who is not chasing the dragon? I do have some important business for him."

Ciel was aghast; so he really was in his own book...Somewhere inside his head, he heard a little voice optimistically chanting that it was only a dream. Though he was not ready to fully accept he was imprisoned in the ink and paper of his own creation, Ciel internally sighed and decided he might as well find out what _exactly _was going on.

"Right, sorry Madame." Ciel gave a faux smile. "I guess I'm just out of sorts this morning. Now, what is it that you wanted to tell me?"

Now, Madame Red was another one of Ciel's characters. She was a wealthy lady that had found Sebastian on the streets when he was little and decided to take him in as an adopted son—since she couldn't have children of her own. Madame's character was roughly based on Aunt An—both for her love of red, and her upper-class behaviour.

Madame Red smiled coyly and smoothed her dress. "It's nothing really essential for me to tell you right now, and if you aren't feeling the best then perhaps it would be better if we get together later. I must run an errand, anyways."

Ciel blinked at her before scowling. _Then why are you wasting my time? _Ciel wanted to ask—but he restrained himself from doing so.

"Well, I must be off." She said while moving towards to doorway. "But, why in the world are you covering your eye? Have you gone blind?"

Ciel shook his head and thought quickly, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention. "The sun was in my eye."

Madame Red chuckled and waved at the confused boy. "Whatever you say, darling." She stopped before shutting the door and turned back to Ciel. "Oh, I forgot to mention that Grell has been looking for you. He was rather persistent that you come see him as soon as possible." Madame laughed as though she found something funny about her own statement. "Ta-ta, Sebastian."

Once the door clicked shut, Ciel flopped face down on his bed and growled. _What the bloody hell just happened? _He wondered, irritated.

Of course, he knew who Grelle was. In the first book, she helped Sebastian escape from his captor for a short time. During the Undertaker arc, Grelle and Sebastian became familiar with each other—but after Sebastian became intimate with the red haired female (in a rather _un_-graphic scene, mind you), Grelle became excessively attached to the other. This lead to her character being cut out early and never heard from again.

But wait...Madame Red was implying that Grelle was a _he; _didn't Ciel create Grelle as a female? He also remembered that he made the character rather flamboyant, so it couldn't be that in this world Grelle was a male. Was Ciel dealing with a transvestite?

"Well, well, well, do my eyes deceive me, or is that my little kitten?" A voice chuckled darkly and Ciel felt a spidery hand skim up his spine.

Ciel instantly flipped around and glared at the intruder, loathing that he hadn't notice the other enter the room. "You again!" His heart still throbbed painfully.

"Is that how you're always going to greet me?" Sebastian asked with a teasing tone. He was dressed in ebony trousers with a navy jacket. He captured the fabric of his pristine white gloves between his teeth and tugged them off, tucking them into his pocket.

"Greeting is another word for welcoming, something that you are certainly not." Ciel snapped and moved off the bed. "What do you want, Sebastian?"

"Do I need a reason to visit my kitten?" Sebastian cocked his head in mock cuteness, ignoring the previous jab from the other.

Ciel almost felt himself blush—_almost_. "I am _not _yours, so, if you would, stop referring to me as such."

Sebastian shrugged and circled Ciel predatorily, his hands behind his back. "Goodness me, aren't _you _a handsome little thing. Though I think that I prefer you looking like, well, yourself." A long finger came up to run along the side of Ciel's face. Said boy frowned with annoyance the touch and Sebastian ignoring his question. "I'll have to see if that nuisance Grell can fix his little mistake." The finger came up to rest on Sebastian's lip. "You see, if you look like me, then the events will just play over again. And what fun would _that_ be having you know exactly what is going to happen? We do want a little _impromptu _in our time together, eh?"

Ciel eyed the other menacingly and huffed. "What on _earth_ are you talking about? What events? I demand you to tell me! And why the hell does everyone seem to think that I look like you?"

"Don't you know?" Sebastian chuckled ominously whilst moving to sit on the bed. "I thought I had made myself rather clear."

"All you are doing is blathering on about nothing! Spit it out, or I'm leaving." Ciel lashed out, waving his arm for emphasis. He moved over to where Sebastian had sat and crossed his arms. "Stop messing around and tell me what you want from me!"

Without warning, Sebastian grasped Ciel's hips and pulled him onto his own lap, forcing the other to straddle him. "Now, now, no need to raise our voices." Ciel instantly began to thrash about and flinched when the other nipped at his ear. "Do you _really _want to know what I desire from you?"

The younger shuddered and tried to push Sebastian away. "Stop." His voice wavered on the single word, but Ciel wouldn't let Sebastian manipulate him so easily. "Stop this nonsense, Sebastian."

"Oh? But we've just begun." Sebastian smirked maliciously while tightening his hold on Ciel. The raven haired man's tone gave Ciel shivers. His character's ability to weave a seductive tone with a dark tinge was nothing less than marvelous. "Haven't you ever wanted to experience more carnal pleasure—_ones other than quality__ time spent with your right hand_?" Sebastian breathed lowly into Ciel's ear.

Adrenaline suddenly burst through Ciel's being and he managed his way out of Sebastian's grasp. "Don't be preposterous!" His eyes glowered with distaste towards the other. He could feel his cheeks heat up from Sebastian's words, a sickening warmth settling in the pit of his stomach.

"But I only speak the truth. After all—" Sebastian stood up to tower over the younger, "—I reside in your imagination." He tilted his head to the side and leered at Ciel. "How else could I have possibly known about every little detail of your existence?"

Ciel wanted to slap the other across the face, and almost considered doing so, however instead he moved back. "Why did you come here?" He asked again, this time with more power in his voice.

Sebastian sighed and put his hands on Ciel's shoulders. "To make sure Grell didn't, for lack of a better term, fuck it up. Or, rather, so he didn't do anything that would damage you." Sebastian leaned closer and his breath ghosted against Ciel face. (_He may smell delicious, __but that doesn't stop him from being a arse, _Ciel thought.) "You see, in order to fully pull you into your own book, we needed to do a couple things first. One of those included effects - that a mere human as yourself couldn't possibly understand - just so happened to be that you appear to look like myself."

"What are you saying—" Ciel wanted badly to pull away from Sebastian's proximity, but the other didn't give him a chance.

"Now now, wouldn't want to ruin the surprise." With that, Sebastian removed all contact and made his way towards the door. "By tomorrow you should be looking yourself. Just don't do anything irrational whilst in my body." And with that, he disappeared out the door.

For the second time in only ten minutes, Ciel felt the intense urge to throw something. (_This _cannot _be happening, _Ciel thought of the hundredth time. _Stupid Sebastian.) _

"I should have killed him off when I had the chance..." Ciel mumbled to himself sombrely. "That bastard."

* * *

><p><em>::Modern Day:: ::North-West Canada:: <em>

* * *

><p>Aunt An sat uncomfortably in a pale pink chair, the thin foam padding doing nothing to put her at ease. The smell of disinfectant didn't distress her, but usually the red haired doctor wasn't the one in a waiting room anticipating the verdict from another doctor.<p>

A tall man approached Aunt An with a clip board in hand, white coat alerting Angelina that he was a doctor. "Miss Durless?"

"Yes?" Aunt An stood to shake the doctor's hand. "Is he alright?"

The doctor nodded, "The good news is that Ciel's alive; however, he's in a coma. We haven't been able to determine what exactly caused the coma, but we're doing everything we can."

"What about his brain activity?" From years of experience, Aunt An wanted to make sure she knew everything about what was wrong with her nephew. She would have examined Ciel herself, but she didn't want her overwhelming panic to distract her from working.

"Perfectly fine, actually." The doctor smiled and gestured for Aunt An to follow him. "In fact, his brain levels are higher than the average person who has suffered from a coma. We'll make sure to monitor his progress, though, and keep you up to date."

Aunt An nodded and the two had arrived at Ciel's room. (_665, Ironic..._Aunt An had thought_, wasn't that the page Ciel had been stuck on before?_)

The doctor gave Aunt An a reassuring smile, "I'll leave you. Don't be afraid to talk to him. He might be able to still hear you."

As a doctor herself, Aunt An already knew this, but nodded nevertheless. "Thank you."

The red headed woman didn't say anything for quite a long time, but instead took residence in a vacant chair beside her nephew. She soothingly rubbed the hand that wasn't hooked up to an I.V. A thin layer of perspiration had appeared on his pale skin and the heart monitor had increased slightly. Aunt An could only worry for Ciel, and she felt a suffocating fear wash over her. What if the young writer never woke up...

* * *

><p><em>My vision is black. The sound of people shuffling and murmuring to each other fills the undoubtedly poorly lit basement. I feel the cheap fabric that blinds me—the cloth is tied too tightly, which causes me to feel light-headed. There's a rustle of chairs scraping against concrete flooring and a man clears his voice loudly. <em>

"_Ladies and gentleman; bidders and buyers alike: tonight an extravagant assortment of items are brought to you for your zealous purchasing. Our first entry is this dainty little one—" The Announcer's voice booms across the room, silencing all other chatter. _

"_Young and untainted, this small specimen stuns all who gaze upon him." His voice turns darker, "His angelic features are in desperate need for corruption from your animalistic desires. I warn you, he is a stubborn one, and his master or mistress may have some drastic work to whip him into the __perfect slave." _

_My body convulses at his words, and I desperately wish to sink back__ into the bars of my rusty cage. I feel a pair of cold __hands loosen my blindfold, but I do not open my eyes. I can tell that the podgy announcer—who is more like a ringmaster—sending me glares. _

_A sudden pain makes me jerk as his heavy cane comes into contact with my shoulder. He chuckles as I fall forward, the crowd tittering along with him. _

_I hear him whisper something lewd into my ear, although I can't quite make out what he says—his hot breath makes acid rise in my throat. I can almost picture his blubbery lips__ turning __upwards in a victorious smile as my body shakes__. I want nothing more than to personally rip it off his greasy face. _

"_If he was cooperative , you could gawp at his cobalt eyes, which appear to be more expensive than any mere sapphire. This rarity is one of a kind, do I hear a thousand?" _

_I cringe in disgust when people shout higher bids, all the while the image of the smiling ringmaster burning in my mind. _

"_Sold!" _

_I don't hear the highest bid, but I don't care. Whatever my fate would be, couldn't possibly be worst than being in the cage. _

_I feel another jab on my already bruised shoulder. "Won't you look at your new master?" _

_My eyelids reluctantly open and I adjust my eyes to see. _

"_My, My, what a cute little feline." _

_My heart pounds rapidly as I stare at the man in front of me. Although the images around me are almost only black and white, the raven haired man's amber eyes seem to reflect a lifetime of torture. _

"_What shall I call you, kitten?" _

Ciel involuntarily shivered as he regained consciousness, his eyes fluttered open and muscles strained when the young writer forced himself out of bed. The short nap had effectively boosted Ciel's energy, and, despite his frustration over the whole matter, he found himself feeling prepared to face whatever Sebastian threw at him.

Still feeling a bit groggy, Ciel lugged himself towards to what he hoped to be a bathroom. A small yawn escaped his lips as the slate haired boy moved in front of the showers. Rubbing his eyes, Ciel blinked at the structure that stood before him.

It was at least ten feet tall and sported odd-looking nozzles. Ciel had studied the Victorian era long enough to know that this contraption was a very primitive shower. The Victorians fancied baths more than showers, but the convenience of showers had made them more popular in luxurious hotels. A bell on the outside of the shower signaled when one would like to shower, and water would be brought up to their room.

Ciel sighed before tugging the brass bell's handle and starting to undress. Water began to run within minutes of Ciel disrobing and he stepped into the shower, closing the curtain behind him. The warm water felt nice on his skin, and make quick work of relaxing his tense muscles.

The constant drumming of water blocked out all outside noises, and it was unsurprising that Ciel didn't notice the quiet tapping against the small mirror across the bathing room. Nor did the writer see that, beyond the thick cloud of steam that had arose, a murky silhouette began to inch it's way towards the curtain.

It crawled on the floor at first, but as more vapour formed, it slunk slowly up the mirror, causing the tapping to get louder.

Behind the curtain, Ciel continued to wash himself, unaware of anything besides the water pouring down his body. His mind drifted back to the dream he'd had earlier; he was used to the nightmares by now, but that wasn't to say that he was fond of them. No, the dark memories would forever haunt the author—images of _those men _and their pathetic faces still burned vividly in Ciel's brain.

However, this particular dream was different, and Ciel suspected Sebastian was behind the warped nightmare.

Ciel suddenly froze while he rinsed the soap from his hair. His eyes were shut - the soap stopped him from opening them. The author heard another sound, and he anxiously washed his eyes, glaring in the direction of the noise when his eyes were free of soap. Slowly, Ciel moved to turn off the water. The noise seemed to settle to a whisper when the water shut off.

His mind started to race as a screech came from the other side of the curtain. The sound continued; it was as if a boney finger was pressed against the surface of the mirror and dragged downwards - to Ciel's ears, it might as well had been a sharp nail against a chalkboard. A shaking hand moved to the veil and Ciel summed up his courage to whip the curtain open.

Ciel nearly wanted to sink behind the walls when the clouded image met his eyes. On the mirror, a invisible something (perhaps a hand) continued to clear away the steam on the mirror. The single path curved up to form an "o." It seemed that it was spelling out something, but drawing it from _inside _the mirror. Ciel brought a hand up to his face, confused by the compelling need to cover his eyes and yet being unable to do so.

A straight line formed and Ciel felt frozen in place, incapable of moving or averting his eyes. Another vertical line crossed through the previous one, creating a "t." Ciel unfocused his eyes from the beginning of an "h" and read the first two words that was drawn on the mirror.

_You cannot _

An "i" followed, and with two more letters, the word read _hide. _

Ciel flung the curtain closed, not wanting to see anymore. He slid down the side of the shower and covered his ears, trying to block out the continuous sound from the other side of the curtain.

A thick lump had formed in his throat, and his stomach churned with acid even after the noise had ceased. He could feel hot tears forming, but wouldn't dare to let them show. He slowly stood and opened the curtains. Without reading the words on the mirror, Ciel almost ran out from the bathroom. He grabbed his towel, keeping his eyes to the ground. Before he exited the bathroom, Ciel paused for a moment. _This is childish. This isn't even 100 percent real. _Ciel thought_. Why I am scared over something that's not real? _

Ciel (almost) fearlessly turned to peek at the mirror, his heart pounding as he read over the words.

_You cannot hide from what you made. _

After the bathroom incident, Ciel opted to escape the hotel and went off to explore the streets of London. The 1800's had definitely differed from the modern city that Ciel lived in. Luckily, Ciel was in a slightly upper-class area, and the streets were bustling with life. Putting on his hat, Ciel hopped off of the step of the hotel and smoothed out the clothes he had found inside his hotel room.

Ciel wasn't completely sure about what he was doing, but the vague memory of Sebastian telling him not to do anything irrational echoed in his mind. He thoughtlessly strolled down the streets of London, heading towards the East End. Although catching a taxicab—or, rather, a carriage—would save time, Ciel decided that walking would give him more perspective of the world he was stuck in.

Surprisingly, the lower end of London wasn't too far away from his hotel, and Ciel found himself on a grimy street quicker than he had imagined—or would have preferred.

From the vast mixture of housing and pubs, one particular building stood out from the rest to Ciel: _'The Devil and the Dame.' _A slightly cliché name for a pub that was titled after the brothel that ran above the bar. Ciel created this imaginary pub as a set for Sebastian and his captor's first meeting—the meaning dimly warned Ciel to stay clear of the pub, but the author payed no heed to it.

Smoke and the strong scent of liquor filled the pub as Ciel stepped inside. Normally, Ciel wasn't one for drinking or prostitutes, but seeing as he appeared to be Sebastian, Ciel didn't seem to mind making an exception.

A few men nodded to Ciel—or who they though was actually Sebastian—when he made his way to the bar counter. He slid into the tall chair and motioned for the bartender to pour him a drink.

The drink was stronger than Ciel had imagined and burned his throat slightly. Taking a another gulp, Ciel eyed the man who had sat two seats down from him; He was tall and had a stoic expression. The bartender nodded to the new man and put a caramel coloured beverage in front of him—brandy, perhaps.

Another glass was emptied, and Ciel's mind became a bit foggier. A nagging voice in the back of his mind told Ciel this was a bad path to continue on—and, moreover, it was becoming both uncharacteristic and rational of him. He pushed it aside and moved to sit directly beside the new comer— Ciel felt a faint twinge of familiarity towards the man.

Once the third drink was downed by the young author, the other man glanced his way. "If you continue that way, you'll certainly become ill."

Ciel smirked and turned to face the other. "My affairs don't really concern you, now do they?"

The other hummed and went back to ignoring the younger.

The alcohol had already begun to take it's toll on Ciel; his judgement was slipping more promptly than he had expected. _Was this unreasonable enough to draw Sebastian's attention? _Ciel wondered as he cleared his throat as an indication that he wanted to talk to the other.

"I'm Ci—" He stopped before correcting his words, "—I'm Sebastian, who might you be?" The words seemed a bit garbled together, but came out coherent enough to be understandable.

The other thought for a quick moment before responding, "You may call me Faust."

"Oh? Like from the book, _Faust?" _Ciel laughed in drunk happiness. "That can't possibly be your real name!"

"Why ever not?"

_Because I never put a single 'Faust' in my book_. Ciel wanted to explain this blunt truth, and nearly did. Instead Ciel gave a (fake) smile, "I'd imagine that you'd make a faux name—an earl certainty wouldn't expose himself in a place such as _this_." Ciel took another sip of his drink.

The corners of Faust's lips twitched. "I'm flattered you think me an Earl." Ciel internally smirked, years of his aunt's babbling about complimentary skills had finally payed off.

(False) surprise sounded in Ciel's voice, "Not an Earl? Dare say, what are you then?"

Another almost smirk before mumbling something along the lines of, "I am merely a gentleman."

"Well then, Faust, what say you to a friendly game?" the wheels in Ciel's mind began to turn mischievously.

"A game of what sorts?"

Ciel finger's circled the edge of his glass, glazed eyes staring at the small bit of liquid at the bottom. "It's quite simple, actually. All you must do is drop a hairpin into a glass bottle. If you lose, you must do whatever I say for one hour."

"And if I win?" Faust sounded curious; his tone only had a small tinge of curiosity, but it was still present in that monotone voice.

_Unfortunate for you, that 'if' will not become a reality. _"If you for chance succeed, then I must do whatever it is you wish for an hour."

* * *

><p><em>Stupid bet, <em>Ciel thought sulkily, _Stupid Faust. _

Ciel was currently leaning against the cold brick wall of a lonely building. A chilly gust of wind made Ciel shiver—he had been waiting for Faust to show up for over thirty minutes, and had already compensated on leaving many times. However, a bet was a bet, and even if Ciel lost a silly drunk bet he wouldn't go back on his word.

The bitter beginnings of winter had already began to set in, and if that damned man didn't show within the next few minutes, Ciel decided that he would leave. However, before Ciel could even finish his thought process, an approaching figure surfaced from beyond the light fog.

"About time..." Ciel mumbled as he pushed off from the wall and stepped forward. In a louder voice, Ciel called out to the other. "What took you so long?"

The new comer gave no reply, but continued to stride in Ciel's direction. Ciel at first thought that the wind had prevented Faust from hearing him. He yelled a bit louder, "Faust?"

Again, no answer came. Ciel squinted his eyes to get a better look at the other, but what met Ciel's eyes was certainty _not _Faust. As the other came in closer proximity, Ciel could see a sinister smile in place on it's lips and the slate haired author quickly realized what kind of position he was in; a skinny male who was small enough to pass as a malnourished boy standing alone in a dark area of London.

Sensing possible oncoming danger, Ciel did what any sane person would do: he ran.

The moment Ciel turned around and darted away, he could hear the rough grunt of the other followed by the clunk of heavy shoes behind him. Fortunately, this part of London had not been covered in any ice, but this didn't give Ciel much of an advantage.

Ciel spotted a group of people ahead, and an idea began to form in his mind. He dodged the oncoming crowd, hopefully losing sight of his chaser. The novelist hadn't realized it had began to rain until a bolt of lightning sparked throughout the sky. The scent of salt water hit Ciel's nose, and adrenaline pumped in the young writer's blood as a dock came into view; as well as a departing boat where he could surely get help!

He was just about there when a sharp pain began to ache in his ribs and lungs, making it impossible to continue running. Ciel anxiously looked behind himself, and at first did not see his pursuer.

Then, from the thick fog, a man in a trench coat charged towards Ciel. Not wasting a second, Ciel attempted to run but only managed to hobble as a harsher pain closed around his throat.

He repeatedly cursed in his mind as he tried to yell out for help; what came, however, was a low rasp followed by a desperate wheeze. He could hear thumping of the other's boots draw closer, and he only caught the faint smell of brandy before a cloth was placed over his nose and mouth. A silent '_no' _echoed in Ciel's mind as the wet streets went out of his vision.

When Ciel recovered consciousness, his heart immediately began to pound. The room he was in was dark, but a light could be seen from out the door. Thankfully, his hands weren't tied, nor was anything else. Ciel lifted himself off the ground, but regretted doing so too quickly—his surroundings were a bit fuzzy and Ciel suspected chloroform. As the slate haired author staggered past the doorway, a repugnant stench assaulted him. The closer Ciel went towards the light, the stronger the scent got; when the odour was at it's strongest, Ciel found himself in a kitchen-like room.

Another man inhabited the space, and turned to nod at Ciel. "Ah, you've woken up, have you?" The man's voice was a bit garbled up, and Ciel felt himself too delirious to recognize either the man's face or voice.

Ciel wanted to find the nearest exit, but found himself being pushed into a wooden chair. Boney hands tied Ciel's own arms to the arms of the chair, and fingers pushed Ciel's bangs back. Ciel's clammy hands flexed sluggishly as bleary images danced in front of his eyes. The man fazed between being an outlined figure and an indistinct splotch in Ciel's dizzy vision.

"Hmm...seems like I've given you too much..." he muttered, and went off to grab something. A damp cloth was presented to Ciel, and a thick vapour rose from it. Momentarily, Ciel's vision evened out a bit, but not as much as too give away the man's identity.

Ciel desperately tried to form words, but was unable to produce anything coherent.

The other man shook his head and chuckled darkly. "Rest, and let me eat."

Watching the other blearily, Ciel leaned his head back as the other went back to his plate. The man plucked a piece of what looked like meat from the china and held it between his fingers. With an animalistic behaviour, he resumed eating.

The meat's juice slide down the man's chin as he ripped off a piece. His thin fingers pinched the meat as he gnawed on the food.

"How rude of me, would you like some?" Ciel flinched when the piece was offered to him, the burnt meat had a slight pink center, but a umber outside. The smell nauseated the young writer; it was slightly familiar, but his pounding head was unable to place exactly what it was.

Once the meat was finished, the other man gave a dark smirk and moved towards the fridge. Taking out a wrapped package he went to turn on the stove. "I think I fancy another."

Ciel couldn't see what was taken out of the foil, but as soon as it hit the frying pan, Ciel's nose was instantly assaulted with a absolutely revolting smell. It was then, combined with the slight shakiness in the man's hands, that he realized what the previous piece of meat was.

It was the smell of burning flesh that made Ciel again want to regurgitate the contents of his stomach. This time, he did.

Images of human tissue being pulled apart by the other man's teeth invaded his brain. Muscles being shredded from the bone and fried as a side made Ciel's knees feel weak. A trail of vomit was wiped away by the same hands that had torn apart that human meat, and he could have sworn that chunks of cooked skin were underneath the other's fingernails.

The frying pan sizzled and a drop of hot juice—blood—squirted between Ciel's eyes; it was then that he felt bile rushing up his throat, and then the world again went black.

* * *

><p><em>:: Whitechapel, London::<em>

* * *

><p>In the slum infested area of Whitechapel—where nobles and merchants snuck out to visit those lewd houses—there was a funeral home belonging to <em>The Undertaker. <em>In the midst of a street full of brothels, the mortician's shop stood majestically in it's gloomy pride. Within the morgue, three males sat uncomfortably in the presence of the Undertaker.

"Fufufufu...What do we have here?" The Undertaker giggled in a spine chilling manner. "Lord Trancy, what_ever _can I do for you today? Come for another body, hmm?" Another unnerving laugh spilled from the mortician. "I'm afraid all the bodies I have at the moment are distinctly dead."

The addressed lord scoffed in an annoyed manner. "No, No, that boy you gave me before was perfectly fine. I am here on business terms."

"Aren't you always?"

"Undertaker, sir, we're here to inquire about a rumour that has been floating around London." The other man - in his late thirties - spoke up. He looked significantly older for his age, but was far more pleasant looking than the other lord. "_About the boy." _

Undertaker tittered quietly and practically glided over to a cabinet. "You know what price I charge for such information...but-" Taking out something that looked almost like a dog biscuit, the Undertaker munched on the snack happily. "-but, you must be much more specific one _whom _you are wishing to inquire about. There are hundreds, if not thousands of boys in London."

The third male kept his head nervously down all the while. Despite him wanting to become the center of attention, the younger blond boy shifted all the more when the eerie embalmer noticed him.

"Deary me, aren't you an adorable little specimen." Undertaker cheerfully poked at the youngest boy's cheeks, causing the boy to flinch and hide behind his master. "Where ever did you find him, Lord Trancy?"

Lord Trancy huffed, and pushed the cowering blond away. "Where I found him is not important! What is it you want? Whatever your price is, I'll pay it."

The creepy man smiled and gestured to the blond. "If you would be so gracious to let me _play _with your little pet, then I'll tell you whatever you fancy."

"So be it." Lord Trancy said right away, while the blond looked at his master frantically. "Play nice, Jim."

"Well, if I am assuming correctly, you wish to know about our dainty little originator, yes?" Undertaker pressed his fingertips together, his long nails tapped against one another. "He is in London, but not in his own form. If you seek him, look for the particular fiend that our initiator favourites.

Lord Trancy was familiar to the Undertaker's riddling ways, but the other Lord wasn't so convinced. "What in God's name is that supposed to mean?"

The Undertaker only cocked his head and smiled, "That is for you to figure out for yourself."

"Well, then, perhaps you'd be so kind as to speak in plain English?"

"That will cost extra," The Undertaker sighed, "And although I'm willing to supply you with all the information your hearts desire, it seems there is nothing else you have that interests me."

He sighed. "Thank you for the information," The other lord said as he tipped his hat.

Lord Trancy nodded as well, but his tone was bitter. "Pleasure doing business with you. I'll be back to pick up Jim in an hour."

"Believe me, my Lordships, the pleasure is mine."

When the two lords exited the dark morgue (thankful to have fled from the shop), it left only the blond and the Undertaker to themselves.

"So," The blond started, "what are you going to do with me?" The younger instantly dropped his quiet and innocent façade-his tone quickly became haughty yet also cheeky.

"Hmm...what did you say your name was? Jim?" The Undertaker moved closer to the boy, ignoring his question for the moment.

"Don't call me that." He demanded, crossing his lead and adjusting his thigh-high socks. "Call me Alois."

"Alois? What a-" The Undertaker dropped to the smaller boy's level and chortled quietly, "-unusual name..."

Alois rolled his eyes and rose to his feet. Pressing himself against the taller, and much older man, Alois smiled suggestively. "What _are _you going to do to me? Tie me up in one of those coffins—or perhaps you'd rather have me tie you up." He wrapped his slender arms around the taller one's waist and looked up at him with lecherous blue eyes.

The Undertaker actually laughed violently. "ehehehe~! You suspected that–bahaha!"

"Eh?" Alois jumped back at the elder's sudden display of hysteria.

"Gyah-hah-ha, No, no, no. If you wanted to be treated as a whore, then you should have went to one of those cathouses." Undertaker calmed down, but an eerie smile was still in place. "No, what I desire is to see something else.

"Since your face is so charming, I was only wondering how wonderful your _insides _would be."

Alois widened his eyes and back away further. He felt the back of his knees press against a coffin as the Undertaker loomed over him. "Don't worry your sweet little head though, you won't feel a thing. Fufufufu~"

A piercing shriek echoed down the alleyway, but no one in Whitechapel paid mind to it.

* * *

><p><em>Some Comic Relief: So, I was up until 3 in the morning one night typing this, and my dogs, Roxy and Misa, were snugging with me. Roxy gave me this looked that basically said: "Mum, quit your fucking typing and go to bed. NOW. Me and Misa-Misa are trying to get some shut eye. So STFU. Kthxbia." It was cute :3<em>

_Reviews motivate me, and make me happy :D_

_~Tiiley-chan_


	3. END NOTICE?

I checked my email that I used for this account a day ago and was surprised to see that people actually still review some of my stories? This felt somewhat necessary to write.

So, it turns out I'm not dead, just horribly uninspired and a grade A procrastinate. For those of you that care about my stories, I'll be sad to inform you that the chances of them continuing are rather slim at this point. Truth is, the majority of my stories were written when I was still a fetus, and every time I look back on them I cringe. My Kuro stories are nowhere as bad as my A:TLA ones were though, dear lord. There is a stronger possibility of Checkmate being updated than my other stories, but I'll give no promises to when. Perhaps in the summer when I have more time and less essays to procrastinate on.

Anyways, I'd like to give a final thank you for anyone who has read/review'd/fav'd/alerted/etc my stories. May all your bacon not burn.

If anyone cares to follow me on tumblr, feel free to PM me or what not. I post drabbles on rare occasions but mostly it's just ropeplaying and fandom derp.

-flies away-


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